The time is 12:46 P.M., Friday, what I assume to be February. I
know the times, but the dates are hard to be sure of. I've been
counting, counting every minute of my existence in this state. I've
considered my first day here a Monday, because it seemed logical.
But I've now come to the realization that nothing where I am is
logical. Nothing really makes sense in my life, if my life is even
real. Ive thought many times to myself that I could be some kind of
experiment, or a simulation. I lack human physical reaction traits,
but have strong emotional properties. My hands feel real, my body
feels real, and all of my reproductive organs are in order,
assuring me of my capability to function as a human being. So I've
come to the conclusion that I am real, but this is not certain.
It's just an assumption, a hypothesis, based on facts about myself.
I would assume that at this time, someone of my apparent species
would grow tired, but I have yet to find out why I do not get tired
at times of exghausrion... I've come to my this box a home, but it
does not fit the needs necessary to one of my kind. There's no
food, which is why I wonder I haven't starved. There's no water, so
I wonder why I haven't dehydrated. And there's no source of air, do
I wonder how I haven't suffocated or died of heat exhaustion....I
haven't even cried since the day I was materialized, or brought
here, or something. Usually a person who had experience with an
environment of other kinds would be questioning the reason why he
had been locked up, or questioning how long he would stay sane, I
assume. But the only thing I guess is stopping me from going
absolutely mad is the fact that I have no knowledge of anything
other than this dull existence. Even though I have no experience
toward or with any factor of "fun", I know this is a boring life.
One usually doesn't get locked into a chamber like this unless they
have done something wrong, or broken a law of some sort. But I have
no idea why ive been imprisoned, and why I've been alone, without
any contact to an outside world, if there is one at this point.
Maybe I'm a survivor, maybe I'm the last one, out in eternal stasis
so I would not be the extinction of humanity, or a humanoid species
I'm apart of. Maybe that's the reason why I know so much, because
there's no reason, and no explanaition to why I know so much about
a part of life I've never lived. Maybe how I answer my own
questions, is how I live my life. How I form my life, and how I
form my existence. But I could just be crazy. But then again, maybe
| Email this Novel
| Add to reading list